


Found Family

by fab_fan



Series: MFS Week [4]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Interlude, Military, Team as Family, Young Love, interludes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Some people wanted to see the 'rejected' stories for MFS Week Day 2 - Found Family (There were a handful of them I didn't choose.) So, here you go! A collection of the stories that didn't quite make the cut.------At the end of the sidewalk, casually perched near the edge of the road, work out attire and face red from exertion making her seem like a jogger pausing mid run to take a breath and decide which direction to take, was Anacostia Quartermaine.Sucking in a deep breath, Scylla paused.Why was she there?
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: MFS Week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807099
Comments: 28
Kudos: 194





	1. Darkness

The news came swiftly. Hot and fast like a lightning storm across the Cession plains on a hot spring night. Intense and packed full of warning and edgy harsh realization.

At first, Scylla didn’t pay any attention to it.

There were a lot more pressing matters to worry about.

Like how Willa Collar was alive.

And Spree.

And the reason Scylla had first met Raelle.

Goddess.

Scylla couldn’t contain her anger. Her rage. After years and years of tempering it, hold it inside, waiting for the right people to unleash her agony on, she took one look at those eyes, blue like glaciers, like Raelle’s, and felt every single stab of grief, sadness, and pain ripple through her and jump out of her mouth in a string of words that would have brought the goddesses themselves to their knees.

This woman made Raelle believe she was dead. Made Raelle suffer. Grieve. Didn’t she know how much love Raelle held within her? How much she _felt_ .? _Loved_? That losing her mom, her hero, nearly drove her to military assisted suicide?

Didn’t she understand how many nights Raelle would stare out into the darkness, lost in memories and morbidity? How she carried around an air of melancholy even when she smiled? That the second Scylla saw the first all consuming grin paired with a subtle southern drawl from her, that she felt her heart explode because she knew that this was the first time Raelle had fully let herself be happy, and it was with her?

Didn’t she know she broke Raelle?

That they both did.

Scylla lost the only person she had ever loved, was on the run from the army, and now was stationed with her ex-girlfriend’s mother.

There was a lot happening.

So, no, she did not pay attention. 

The Army conducted a secret mission in China.

So what? The Army conducted missions all the time. Covert or not. 

Soldiers died.

Sad, but expected. The Army sacrificed their soldiers like they were toys, pigs for the slaughter.

Two of the soldiers were recent cadets, young and just beginning their careers. They died bravely.

Again, sad. 

But it wasn’t Raelle.

She was in War College.

Safe and sound and haunting Scylla’s memories like a tiny piece of heaven the devil glimpsed before plummeting to earth. 

A glimmer of hope that touched her fingertips before slipping away, floating off, disappearing like a flickering flame in the wind.

It wasn’t until she walked down the stairs from her bedroom and noticed the house was quiet that Scylla began to wonder if something was amiss. It was too quiet. Where there was normally music or chatting agents grabbing a bite to eat and conferring on the next steps to achieve their goals, there was absolute silence. She peered around the empty building, and briefly wondered where everyone had gone and why no one had spoken to her of a new mission. For half a moment she feared the house had been compromised and she was left in the wake.

For half a moment she thought of dim garages and soldiers bursting in with fire and fury, remorseless and fierce as they killed her parents.

But, a coat was still draped over the kitchen table chair and empty coffee mugs were gathered near the sink.

The house was still occupied.

And not just by her ghosts, her demons.

Forcing herself to not worry about something she had no control over in that moment, she walked out into the murky midmorning sun, a slight haze from the early morning rain still glistening on the clouds and in each breath she took. She swaggered down the steps and to the sidewalk, hanging a left and ambling along. Her hands reached for her pockets, and she tucked her fingers in the comforting pouches, letting herself pretend for just a second that the warmth and feel was not because of worn denim but, instead, from calloused hands, full of gentle and secure affection.

Her steps took her a few blocks, past homes and giggling children, their parents watching on from porches and rocking chairs, before she saw her.

At the end of the sidewalk, casually perched near the edge of the road, work out attire and face red from exertion making her seem like a jogger pausing mid run to take a breath and decide which direction to take, was Anacostia Quartermaine.

Sucking in a deep breath, Scylla paused.

Why was she there?

Her eyes darted around, searching for Spree and Army alike.

There had been no warning. No notice.

It was risky for the officer to randomly show up. Even out of uniform, she was known. Willa knew who she was. If someone saw her, reported back that she was spotted nearby, it could ruin everything. 

There was no reason for her to be there in the first place.

If it was information she wanted, Scylla had none. Not yet. 

If it was to bring Scylla in, she never would have let her go.

She wasn’t looking to join the Spree.

What could she possibly want?

As if sensing her stare, Anacostia glanced over at her, face unreadable.

Scylla felt a prickle of dread coil low in her belly.

Everything felt wrong since she awoke that morning. Since she threw on her boots and jacket and stepped out of her bedroom. 

Licking her lips, she morphed her features into a look of confident disinterest and strolled forward. Hiding any wariness behind a mask she knew all too well, she pushed forward.

“A little far for a run, isn’t it?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow, “If you’re looking for a ride back, the bus stop is a few blocks that way.”

“We need to talk.”

A humourless chuckle, “Oh?”

“I don’t have much time.”

“By all means, don’t let me keep you.” She lifted her chin, “I don’t think you’re supposed to stop too long, let your heart rate drop too far.”

“Scylla.”

The younger witch blinked. She wasn’t sure if it was the sergeant using her first name or the tone with which she said it that sent a chill down her spine and made the small hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand up, but she fought back a flinch as the single word rang in the air. She closed her mouth, once again peering around for anyone listening in before tilting her head, “This way.”

Without waiting, she marched down the sidewalk, feeling Anacostia a couple paces behind her. She didn’t look back at her, instead keeping her eyes forward and mind clear. Half a block down, she slipped into a tiny alleyway, barely big enough to fit two people, between two rickety clapboard houses. Spinning around, she pinned Anacostia with cold blue eyes, “What is it?”

Anacostia didn’t react to the harsh voice or unyielding glare. 

Instead, she took a second.

She stared at Scylla.

Eyes softening.

Face flickering with something as her jaw ticked.

Scylla saw it all.

And, in the shadows of the summer sun, felt ice cold.

“What happened to her?” escaped the brunette’s mouth, words tasting like pain and helplessness, so terrible her tongue tripped along the vowels and her nose wanted to wrinkle in a grimace. 

Because it was the worst thing she could ever ask.

And her body revolted at having to form the sounds.

Just like her mind refused to imagine, refused to think, refused to do anything but wait impatiently.

Because that disgusting horrible question was wrong and never should have been asked. It was useless. Not needed. The answer was so simple, so easy, a quick ‘nothing’ that the anxious nerves twisting in her stomach were a grotesque overreaction to a pretend nightmare.

Anacostia’s eyes softened even more. Turned gentle. Turned caring. Turned apologetic.

And Scylla wanted to turn away and run. 

Sprint the rest of the way down the alley and burst out the other end, away from those eyes. Away from the unspoken grief and agony the ticking seconds promised to reveal. 

Back to the house. Back to safety.

Safety.

Where was safe?

A long lost lighthouse?

A once visited beach?

The arms of a woman who couldn't even look at her without tears in her eyes and heartbreak in her soul?

Where could she go?

Chin quivering, Scylla stood tall, cramming her hands in her pockets so they didn’t shake. 

Anacostia’s first words had her shoulders falling, whatever projected bravery, whatever fake confidence she had snuffed out like a light.

“I’m sorry.”

Clenching her jaw, teeth aching, her muscles tightened, fight or flight instinct coursing through her. She threw out whatever defenses she had, opting for deflection, sarcasm, anything but what was actually happening, “I never wanted to be invited on your morning run. The track suit isn’t my style.”

“I need you to listen to me.” Anacostia ignored her feeble attempt at bravado, at changing the subject, at refusing to acknowledge what was happening, what she was about to hear, “I need you to remember what I told you in that basement before I gave you the lighter.”

_Remember the part of you that is good._

Scylla frowned, a knot of emotion threatening to choke her, “How bad?”

“Scylla,”

“How. Bad?”

Anacostia pursed her lips, “Killed in action.”

Scylla fell back, physically feeling the words slam into her, cutting through her like red hot knives. Her eyes blinked rapidly, her entire body feeling like it was burning and yet ice cold. Her head shook, body trembling, “No...she…”

Anacostia exhaled sadly, “She was deployed directly after graduation.”

Scylla's eyebrows knit together, the words not making sense. “War College. She went to War College.”

“No, she didn’t.”

_So, that was your big plan, then. Just ruin your chances for War College, get deployed too soon, and get blown up on the front lines because you suck so bad?_

Scylla didn’t know she was tumbling until her shoulder hit the wooden planks of the building beside her, air gone in the small space, the walls closing in.

“I am sorry I was not able to tell you until now.”

Scylla’s shoulder dug into the wood, the slight spark of pain not even registering, “Graduation...that was…” Graduation had been weeks ago. A lifetime ago.

Her chest clenched, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

Two young cadets had been killed. 

Secret mission in China.

She had ignored it.

Didn’t care. 

Thought it was not important.

Gasping for breath, her voice shook, “Did it hurt?”

Had Raelle felt pain? Was she scared? Was she alone? Did she see it coming? Did anyone help her? 

Help a lonely hurting broken girl who was so strong, so loving, so brave, but whose life kept beating her down until she fell into such darkness it took someone to find her. To see her. To recognize the silent screams for help that she would never voice because she was the one who helped, not the other way around.

For a brief moment in time, that someone had been Scylla.

Just like Raelle had been for her.

Two beings lost in darkness but whose inner lights had found each other.

“No.” Anacostia replied.

Her head snapped up, “You’re lying.”

She didn’t know how, but she knew she was lying.

Anacostia didn't respond.

Knees unsteady, legs ready to collapse, lungs unable to take in air, mind an endless cavern of whispered devotion and wicked tricks, a hole where her heart once was, Scylla unconsciously raised her hand, staring at her palm. Her empty palm.

“She wasn’t alone. Abigail Bellweather was with her.” Anacostia spoke quietly.

Scylla choked out a sob, hand coming to her mouth.

“She was brave. She made us all very proud.”

Scylla closed her eyes tightly, a burst of rage licking hot at the roof of her mouth. She didn’t care about anyone being proud. Proud of what? An unneeded sacrifice? A senseless stupid death? The loss of someone who was too good for the people entrusted with her life? With her heart?

The image of Raelle, worn down and defeated, played across her mind’s eye, consuming her.

_I don’t feel powerful, I feel broken. Thanks to you._

“Did she know?”

“Know what?”

“That it was coming?” Scylla opened her eyes, meeting brown orbs slowly filling with understanding, “Did she see it?”

Had Raelle known what was going to happen - and let it?

Raelle had been ready to die when she first arrived at Fort Salem, seeing no way out, no hope, no future but one that included a quick death.

She was grieving her mother.

She felt powerless. She was broken.

_I don’t feel powerful, I feel broken._

“No,” Anacostia was firm.

_I don’t feel powerful, I feel broken. Thanks to you._

“Raelle was strong.” Anacostia took half a step toward her, “She still loved you, Scylla. She asked me to help you. She hadn’t given up. Not like that.”

Scylla felt the conviction in her words, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering.

Was this her fault?

Had she done this?

Taken her lover’s life without even lifting a finger?

“This is not your fault.” Anacostia brought her out of her thoughts, “The Camarilla attacked. There was a fight. There is always a danger.”

“A danger...of dying because you weren sent to die?” she sniffed. “Because, she was, wasn’t she? Sent to die?”

No words met her questions, her accusations.

Numbness began to seep into her skin, like an untameable fire, it scorched away the cold, the heat, and left inch by inch of her without any feeling.

Without thought.

She needed to go.

To leave.

Before she turned into one of the shadows hidden from the sun, pale and forgotten. Lost without the celestial light.

“There is a small park half a mile from here. Meet me there tonight. Just after sunset.”

Already turning away from Anacostia, Scylla didn’t look at her, “Why?”

“Sometimes the best way to hold on to something is to share it.”

Scylla swallowed against the rock at the back of her throat.

“I look forward to hearing about all the demerits I missed giving out to Collar.” A pause, “You need to let yourself feel this, or it will only build up inside of you like everything else. Raelle wouldn’t want that.”

“How do you know what she would want?”

“Because she loved you.”

Scylla’s breath hitched.

“Sunset. Don’t be late.”

Scylla could only give an almost imperceptible nod before walking away.

Down the alleyway and out of the shadows.

Her feet guiding her, she didn’t know where she was going. Where she would end up.

Wherever it was, it wasn’t home.

It wasn’t safe.

It wasn’t with Raelle.

It was in the darkness.


	2. Family Unity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to Chapter 16 of Love Hurts. (So, might want to read at least through Chapter 15 of that story for this to make complete sense).
> 
> \-------
> 
> Abigail stared at her, brown eyes hard and as unyielding as steel, “Raelle Collar is a shitbird. But, she’s our shitbird. We are not going to let anything happen to her. That includes you.” Abigail’s eyes glinted, “For some reason, she loves you, Necro. I have no idea why. You’re trouble. You flaunt authority. Raelle has never been on time for inspection since she stepped off the bus for Basic because of you. You broke her heart. Lied to her. Used her. Lied to all of us.”
> 
> “Abi,” Tally tried to interrupt.
> 
> Abigail plowed on, “You’re Spree. You joined a terrorist organization and came here to turn Raelle. To make her like you. You have done just about everything possible to make my time in Basic hell. Our entire Unit’s time in Basic. I am certain more than half our Unit’s demerits were because of you. Because of you, we all got on Alder’s shit list and have never left. You are the definition of a shitbird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, takes place after Ch. 15 of Love Hurts (another story of mine).

“This is familiar.”

The sound of the door closing was followed by boots against the hardwood floor and the light squeak of chairs being jostled about and sat in. Scylla didn’t look up, her entire focus, her entire being, tuned in to the girl in her arms. Nothing existed outside of those pale cheeks and resting heart. She held the world in her embrace, and she feared if she blinked, if she looked away for one moment, it would disappear. 

She’d lost her world before.

She couldn’t lose it again.

Not again.

Pressing a kiss to the top of a blonde head, she tightened her hold as Abigail asked, like a straightforward soldier asking for a report, “Any change?” Hidden in her words, coated in precision and strength, was fear. Worry. Care. 

This wasn’t just a soldier asking after the status of another.

This was Abigail Bellweather asking about Raelle Collar.

Asking about her family. 

Scylla shook her head and nuzzled a temple, “No.”

And, it terrified her. Sent a shiver of dread down her spine every time her mind broke free and acknowledged that the woman in her arms could die. Might have died. Should have died.

That she might be holding onto a ghost. A memory. 

Sometimes, Scylla would just watch her chest, afraid Raelle had stopped breathing and she didn’t even know it. Her fingers would find the pulse point on her wrist, lips would brush against the beat in her throat, desperately searching for the assurances of life.

A light hand touched Scylla’s elbow, comfortingly drawing her attention. “How are you?” Tally questioned, a tinge of affectionate concern in her words.

Scylla pursed her lips, forcing down the spike of heartache and exhaustion in her belly and chest. She was tired of all this. So tired.

“I’m fine.” she answered instead of actually saying how she was. That she couldn’t take seeing her lover in bed, not waking up, anymore. That she was scared. So damn scared. She didn’t know what happened in that room. That she couldn’t close her eyes for fear that Raelle would be gone, only an empty shell left in her wake, when she reopened them. Dead and gone and she wouldn’t be able to bring her back, wouldn’t be strong enough, quick enough, to reach her before the otherworld drew her into its dark abyss. That Raelle’s screams echoed in her mind on endless repeat. That she couldn’t breathe when she remembered how Raelle broke down, fighting against Anacostia and Izadora because she had to save Scylla.

That Scylla caused her to be in so much pain.

As if reading her thoughts, Abigail spoke clearly, “It’s not your fault.”

Tally squeezed Scylla’s arm as the corners of the brunette’s mouth dipped down, her brows furrowed.

Abigail sighed, “We all know Raelle has moments. You didn’t cause this.”

“And, we’re going to figure this out.” Tally added. “Anacostia and Izadora are already looking into it.”

Looking into it.

What did that even mean?

What did it even matter?

What happened when they found something, if they did at all?

“Then what?” slipped out, and Scylla silently berated herself.

Tally frowned.

The words tumbled out, like a waterfall after a melting winter’s snow, “Then what?” Scylla finally looked at them, “Raelle keeps having _moments_? She keeps getting hurt? Alder or...someone finds out what happened and uses her until there’s nothing left?” 

“No,” Tally shook her head, “We’ll help her. Protect her.”

Scylla scoffed wetly, “The Army will kill her. How many times have any of us had to visit her in the infirmary? How many times did the army send her back out, not caring that she can’t hear...can’t be near fire can’t…” her voice broke off. She cleared her throat, ducking her head to blink away the tears in private. 

Raelle had promised her she would stay safe. That she chose _them_. Chose a life and a future and love.

Maybe the choice never even existed.

Maybe it was a promise Raelle couldn’t keep. Never should have pretended to make in the first place.

Maybe Scylla couldn’t be _it_ for her. 

Maybe Scylla was going to lose her, have Raelle slip through her fingers like sand in a sieve...like her parents. The army always got what it wanted. Every single life it wished for, it took.

It would never stop taking.

She was a dodger. Everything went away, in the end. 

Her parents.

Her family.

Raelle, for a while.

Now?

“When was the last time you showered?”

Abigail’s random question caused Scylla to raise her head in confusion, startled out of her thoughts.

“When did you shower, Ramshorn?”

“I don’t see how…”

Abigail stared at her, brown eyes hard and as unyielding as steel, “Raelle Collar is a shitbird. But, she’s _our_ shitbird. We are not going to let anything happen to her. That includes you.” Abigail’s eyes glinted, “For some reason, she loves you, Necro. I have no idea why. You’re trouble. You flaunt authority. Raelle has never been on time for inspection since she stepped off the bus for Basic because of you. You broke her heart. Lied to her. Used her. Lied to all of us.”

“Abi,” Tally tried to interrupt.

Abigail plowed on, “You’re Spree. You joined a terrorist organization and came here to turn Raelle. To make her like you. You have done just about everything possible to make my time in Basic hell. Our entire Unit’s time in Basic. I am certain more than half our Unit’s demerits were because of you. Because of you, we all got on Alder’s shit list and have never left. You are the definition of a shitbird.”

Scylla’s jaw locked and she grit her teeth in the face of the accusations.

The truth.

Abigail stared at her for a full minute, tense silence descending on the trio.

Then,

“You love her.”

Scylla’s head tilted back in surprise at the unexpected statement.

“You love her.” Abigail’s eyes softened, “When Raelle first got here, she was a mess. I was so certain she would ruin my career because she was too busy skipping training and wanting to get herself killed. She changed when she met you.” She breathed in, “I have never seen her more broken than when she lost you, and I have never seen her more happy than when she is with you. You are the _only one_ who can calm her down when she has a moment. You don’t run. You haven’t left. You’re here. Right now. You smell like shit. You look like shit. But, I know you will do everything to make sure she’s happy.” A nod, “We are going to protect her, and we are going to protect you, because she will try to kick our asses if we don’t. And, we all know Rae is good, but she witchbombed out on us and _healed_ us. She’s not a fighter.”

“Abigail is trying to say you’re our friend. Our family. We stick together. Unit Unity.” Tally smiled at Scylla. She wrinkled her nose playfully, “And, you really should think about showering soon.”

“Seriously, cousin, at least a change of clothes.”

“Cousin?” Scylla quirked an eyebrow at the blaster.

“Sister-in-law?” Abigail met her with her own challenging raised brow.

“Ooooh,” Tally clapped her hands together gleefully, “has she proposed? Are you going to propose?”

“What?” she felt like her emotions were getting whiplash.

“You two would have the most adorable wedding.” Tally’s wide eyes gleamed. “Are you two having a civilian wedding? I love weddings. Raelle is such a romantic, even if she pretends not to be.”

“Didn’t she take you to see bugs?” Abigail smirked. She shook her head ruefully, “I end up with two shitbirds to deal with.”

Scylla bit her lip. She didn’t notice the conspiratorial glance between the two soldiers. 

_It was like nothing she had ever seen before._

_The entire field, as far as the eye could see, glittered with thousands of tiny spectral lights, like fairies illuminating the night sky, mini stars in their own galaxy._

_Fireflies._

_Thousands of fireflies._

_Raelle wrapped her arms around her from behind, cheek pressed to hers, “You like it?”_

_It was stunning._

_“I love it.”_

_Her voice lowered, “I love you.”_

“Tell us.” Tally scooted her chair closer. “Raelle won’t tell us anything about your trip.”

_“I love you.” Raelle spoke confidently. “It’s...scary and real. I would do anything to see you smile. I want you to know, I’m always going to love you. I choose you. I’m not gonna leave you like my momma did to my pop. I’m gonna fight every day to be with you. To make you happy. I can get lost sometimes. A lot of times. My head is...but, you find me. If I’m ever where you’re not, know I’m thinkin’ of you and doin’ everything I can to be where you are. I swear.”_

Before Scylla could reply, a soft grumble rumbled against her chest. 

Scylla’s eyes shot to Raelle, and she held her breath.

The blonde twitched in her arms, lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks.

Scylla bent over, cradling her more fully against her chest. She listened intently, silently praying to anyone who would listen for Raelle to be ok. For her to wake up. For her hopes and dreams and prayers and wishes to be answered just this once. Wordlessly offered anything and everything for her girl to return to her. For one more chance to see pale blue eyes.

“Wh...Wha’?” the fixer groaned, her words barely audible. 

“Raelle?” her tattered voice urgently searched for confirmation that this was real. “Raelle?”

Raelle grumbled, her fingers twitching.

Scylla could cry.

“Rae, baby. Can you open your eyes for me? Please? Honey?” she smoothed her thumb across a scrunched brow, soothing away the wrinkles and lines. Wanting to kiss away every ache and pain. Wanting to see the vibrant soul shine in the blue depths.

Eyelids slowly lifted, revealing sought after orbs of hazy life, “What?”

“Hey, stranger.” Scylla breathed out, pressing her cheek to Raelle’s temple after giving it a quick kiss. She wrapped her arms more firmly around the groggy woman, gulping back the sob that tickled the back of her throat.

“Scyl?” Raelle rasped.

“Yeah, baby.” Scylla kissed her cheek, the top of her head. “I’m right here.”

Tally and Abigail watched on, relieved smiles on their face.

They were all there.

The Unit was whole.


	3. Missing Scene: Love Hurts Ch. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twisting her wrist so her fingers brushed a strand of hair behind Raelle’s ear instead, she silently climbed to her feet and picked her way out of the room, dodging past an errant sweatshirt and a stray lacrosse ball. Stepping out of the bedroom, she followed her nose, peering around to try and glean a clue as to what she was about to encounter.
> 
> Edwin Collar bent over a stovetop with spatula in hand, bowl half full of batter with the other half seemingly dripping down the sides and splattering the counter, while the radio mutedly hummed an old country tune, was not what she envisioned.
> 
> Singing along under his breath, he dug the spatula under the frying pancake, clumsily flipping it onto its other side. He danced over to the side, scooping up a plate already piled high with random shapes and blobs of cooked dough before shoveling the slightly blackened pancake on top.
> 
> Well, Scylla knew where the smell of smoke came from.
> 
> Catching her out of the corner of his eye as he reached to set the plate down and pick up the bowl, Edwin grinned at her, “‘Morn’, Scylla. Come on in and have a seat. Breakfast is ‘bout ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene: Chapter 14 of Love Hurts.

The trickling beams of sunlight slipped through the window, cascading across the room and draping over the tousled bed. The beams gently woke Scylla from her restful slumber, coaxing her from the depths of wishes and dreams with warmth and care. She slowly blinked her eyes open. Hazy blue orbs squinted against the light, and she brought a hand up to her face, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep away. As her senses fully came to her, she felt the comforting familiar weight of an arm around her belly and tiny puffs of air against her neck. Angling her head, she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips and stretched her cheeks.

Raelle was sound asleep, adorable little snores huffing past pale pink lips. 

Brushing a kiss to the crown of her head, Scylla breathed in the moment. The peacefulness of waking up with the woman she loved in her arms. No where to be. No responsibilities or commitments. No wars to be fought or hunters to hide from.

Nothing but the autumn sun, hand knitted quilts, and a Cession scoundrel with a romantic heart and a healer’s touch.

Hearing quiet puttering and smelling the faintest whiff of coffee, Scylla mentally debated. Stay in bed or go see what was happening.

Then, she smelt something burning.

Eyes widening, she glanced down at Raelle.

The blonde let out another little snore and snuggled further into her arms. Her nose dug into the wrinkled cotton of her shirt, seeking out and burrowing into the patch of skin along the drooping collar, mumbly grumbles brushing against her chest like the fall breeze. 

Torn between wanting to wake her up and going to investigate the nose tingling scent of smoke, it took one more little huff and a puppy like nuzzling into her chest for Scylla’s mind to be made up.

Raelle deserved to sleep in as long as she could.

She needed it. 

And, selfishly, Scylla couldn’t bring herself to end such an adorable sight.

With one more kiss to the top of blonde locks, Scylla gently eased herself out from beneath her girlfriend, moving an inch at a time and holding her breath as she kept an eye on smooth cheeks and pale lashes.

As her feet hit the cool floor, she bit back a wince and gently guided Raelle’s head onto the pillow. Raelle snuffled and buried her face into the cotton, grumbling to herself as she sleepily grabbed at the space Scylla had been in. Hands blindly patted around before Scylla slid a blanket into the empty space. Immediately, Raelle wrapped her arms around it, the warm stitching bunching in her hold as she hugged it close.

Goddess, she looked so cute.

Scylla felt the urge to run her fingers across the peaceful face, for once not burdened with life’s trials and tribulations, worries about death and pain.

Her hand unconsciously hovered, unable to fight against the need to trace the streak of white that cut along Raelle’s jaw.

A rattling of a pan and the smell of smoke knocked into her like an alarm clock or Anacostia’s sergeant’s bark.

Twisting her wrist so her fingers brushed a strand of hair behind Raelle’s ear instead, she silently climbed to her feet and picked her way out of the room, dodging past an errant sweatshirt and a stray lacrosse ball. Stepping out of the bedroom, she followed her nose, peering around to try and glean a clue as to what she was about to encounter.

Edwin Collar bent over a stovetop with spatula in hand, bowl half full of batter with the other half seemingly dripping down the sides and splattering the counter, while the radio mutedly hummed an old country tune, was not what she envisioned.

Singing along under his breath, he dug the spatula under the frying pancake, clumsily flipping it onto its other side. He danced over to the side, scooping up a plate already piled high with random shapes and blobs of cooked dough before shoveling the slightly blackened pancake on top.

Well, Scylla knew where the smell of smoke came from.

Catching her out of the corner of his eye as he reached to set the plate down and pick up the bowl, Edwin grinned at her, “‘Morn’, Scylla. Come on in and have a seat. Breakfast is ‘bout ready.” 

Scylla smiled to herself, slowly walking further into the kitchen. Edwin was nice. She liked him. But a little bit of wariness and nerves clicked in her bones and stuttered her steps. 

Raelle was usually with her when she was with him. 

But, now she was alone with her girlfriend’s father because Raelle was too cute to wake up.

Scylla wondered if she should go wake Raelle up. 

Because, while Edwin had been nothing but sweet to her, he was still Raelle’s dad.

A civilian who loved his daughter.

The daughter Scylla had hurt. 

The daughter Scylla wanted to wake up with every morning.

And, to be honest, Scylla hadn’t been alone with a parent like this since she learned the woman who ran the Spree safehouse she sought protection in was Raelle’s mom.

Scylla didn’t know how to interact with parents.

Especially ones who weren’t her own.

And that was a line of thought she did not want to go down.

Happily bustling over to the old coffee machine, Edwin grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with steaming liquid, “Help yourself to whatever you want.” He quickly deposited the mug on the kitchen table with a nod, “Sit, kiddo. Syrup is in the fridge. I’ll grab ya a fork.”

Licking her lips, Scylla turned to the refrigerator, glancing at the old lacrosse schedule, faded and half unreadable, held up by a magnet alongside a photo of Raelle next to her dad, both wearing big smiles, Edwin in a tattered ball cap and Raelle smudged with mud and sporting a jersey.

“They won the region that year.” Edwin drew her out of her thoughts. He set the plate of pancakes on the table, followed by two empty plates and some forks. “Rae got more assists than anyone. Knocked those other kids off their high horses, I’ll tell you that.” 

Scylla imagined a younger Raelle, running up and down the field, whipping the ball back and forth, face sexily determined.

“Can ya grab the butter, too? It’s next ta the fridge on the counter.”

Scylla nodded, pulling out the requested items and walking back to the table. She set them down, waiting a moment before sitting, only fully settling in at Edwin’s delighted grin.

“Now, Rae likes to say these aren’t the best damn pancakes she’s ever had, but we all know that’s a lie.” Edwin scooted a stack onto Scylla’s plate, “Ain’t no fancy brunch, but pair it up with a good dose of that syrup and some butter, and you got the best way to start your day.”

“Thank you.” Scylla cautiously picked up her fork. The pancakes were slightly burnt around the edges, golden brown swirling with pale yellow and dark black throughout the oddly shaped treats. But, eyes glimmering like Raelle’s did when she gave Scylla her charm, all hopeful eagerness and earnest anxiety, Scylla couldn’t help but do as told. She dumped a good bit of syrup over it, let Edwin slice off and drop a dollop of butter on top, and took a bite.

Maybe it was all the sugar. Maybe it was the sweet maple and salty creamy butter. 

But, this was about the most delicious pancake Scylla had ever tasted.

“Good, right? See, this ol’ man knows a thing or two about breakfast.” Edwin laughed, taking his own bite.

Scylla chewed, swallowing before offering him a grin, “It looks like it.”

“Ol’ family recipe. Passed down for generations. Secret’s a good pour of beer.” Edwin winked and took another bite, “Now, Scylla, Raelle’s told me some things about you.”

The pancake she just ate felt like a lump of lead in her belly. 

Sensing her unease, Edwin waved his fork, “Now, ain’t none of my business unless you tell me. But, I just want you to know, Raelle don’t bring people home for me to meet. But, she brought you, and that means something. Rae said you might take some time to be ok with all this, and that’s fine. Take all the time you need. Us Collars will be here whenever you’re ready.” He winked, “Until then, how about you eat another one of my famous pancakes and I tell you about the time Raelle damn near adopted a stray dog without telling me.”

* * *

An hour later, Raelle came tumbling into the kitchen, eyes bleary and face half smooshed from the pillow. She squinted. Scylla and Edwin were seated close together at the kitchen table, empty plates with swipes of syrup and crumbs at their elbows. A book was open in front of them, and Edwin was cheerfully pointing at something in it as Scylla chuckled.

She blinked.

Was that…

Oh no.

Oh, goddess, no.

It was a photo album

“Pop!” Raelle flung herself across the room, almost crashing into a chair as she batted at the book. 

Edwin masterfully dodged her attempts, winking at Scylla before facing his child, “Sit down, kid, before you hurt yourself.”

“What’re you doin’?” Raelle pouted. 

“Tellin’ your better half about who she’s hitching herself to.”

The pout grew. “Not hitched.” Raelle mumbled under her breath. 

“Hey,” Scylla broke in, letting her fingers trail down Raelle’s arm and tap the back of her hand, “how did you sleep?”

Raelle tried to keep up the glare, but her shoulders relaxed, “Fine. Missed you when I woke up.”

“You were so cute, I didn’t want to wake you.” Scylla laced their fingers and tugged her close, “Besides, seemed like you needed the rest after last night.” 

Raelle blushed hot red, eyes cutting to her dad who was carrying the leftover plates to the sink, before looking at the older girl, “Actually, ‘m all charged up.”

“You want some pancakes, Rae?” Edwin called out.

Raelle’s eyes widened, “You ate Pop’s pancakes?”

Scylla nodded with a faux grimace, “I did.”

“Pop! I told you not ta force her ta eat them!”

“My house, my rules, kid!” Edwin shot back, “This family eats my famous pancakes, no exceptions.”

Scylla’s heart fluttered.

Family.

“Pop!” Raelle sighed, “Scyl, you ok? Feel sick?”

“I’m fine,” she pushed the flash of emotion away and smirked at her, “Might need to make it up to me though.”

“Oh?” She sat down in Edwin’s chair, moving so their knees touched, “An’ how can I do that?”

Scylla gave a small shrug, “Might need to taste something else to balance it out."

Raelle’s eyes darkened, “Balance’s important.”

“Very important.” 

Raelle leaned in closer, eyes dipping down to Scylla’s lips before rising back up to her gaze. Before she could close the distance, a dish towel smacked into the side of her face.

“Knock it off, and grab a plate, Raelle.” Edwin snorted.

Raelle sighed, pressing a kiss to her cheek instead and stood up. 

Scylla watched her open a cupboard, bantering with her father about the mess of pancake batter on the counter and stove top.

Family.

Raelle glanced over at her and offered a ruffled grin.

Scylla couldn’t say for certain what she had suddenly found herself a part of, but, whatever it was, it felt perfect.


End file.
